


Siren

by Philomela



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Angst, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philomela/pseuds/Philomela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No. He was meant to be loved and claimed - possessed. </p>
<p>Meant to be let free with the hope of his return. </p>
<p>He was a siren, and they belonged to no one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Siren

...

"The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices

Make instruments to plague us."

\- _William Shakespeare_

...

"Harry."

Lazily, he arched his neck, tilting his head, to meet my eyes. Warm topaz and half-lidded, dazed, emerald.

"Hmm?"

The milky-white skin was stretched taught, the fluttering pulse beating against the silk in that pattern I had learned to associate with his magic. The sweet and musky aroma that was purely him surrounded me, sinking into me.

How odd this changeling was; tempting a beast with an air of innocence. Those plump red lips pulled into a dreamy smile as he ensnared me. The black feathers shifting and falling from his face, parting to allow those green orbs to shine through.

My own personal siren.

Here he lay, sprawled against me, his head cradled on my lap, his body spread out before mine; he had not a care in the world as he lazed beneath me, a tamed siren.

No, a contented siren.

So many before me answered his call, drowning in his presence — unworthy.

So many before me, lured in by his sweet visage — those fools.

He was not a delicate doll to be coddled, protected — restrained.

For it is cruel to clip the wings of those gifted with flight.

No. He was meant to be loved and claimed — possessed.

Meant to be let free with the hope of his return.

He was a siren, and they belonged to no one.

"Nothing." He smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes as he let out a breathy laugh, raising his head to bestow a lingering kiss on my pliant lips.

Our eyes met. Resigned topaz, amused green.

He belonged to no one.

Not even me.


End file.
